Mesmerizing
by Minx of Lynex
Summary: What the hell had he run into? His eyes slid open, and with a jerk, he scrambled back against the wall. Horror tore through his body, panic flooding his chest, as he stared into the deep, emerald eyes of Tom Riddle. Rated M. Harry/Tom. Three-shot.


Thank you to both of my beta's Wujy and Lady! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or it's characters.

This is just the first of three connecting one-shots. Enjoy!

{M}

It had happened so fast that Harry hadn't even had time to blink. The uncomfortable tugging at his navel jerked him through time, and with a painful snap he found himself lying directly in the center of the Great Hall just inches from one of the benches.

With a groan, he rolled onto his back, cracking his eyes open to stare at the enchanted ceiling. Raising his eyebrows, he acknowledged that it was nighttime and that snow was gently falling. After a moment of pause, he sat up and pulled himself to his feet.

That, he decided, hadn't gone as planned. Rolling his neck, he rubbed his sore shoulder as he turned and made his way to the doors. Harry pushed the doors opened and stepped into the silent entrance hall, making his way to the stairs.

Apparently his attempt at conjuring something from the past hadn't worked. That had been his assignment for the week from Charms—trying to figure out a way to summon things from the past. He had decided to try and Summon a tapestry from the Slytherin common room.

It was one of the things off a list the class had been given, and it seemed the most interesting to Harry. How the spell he'd created had taken him to the Great Hall, however, he wasn't quite sure. Sighing, he jumped up the second flight of stairs two at a time.

He had been messing around with combining simple summoning and time charms all week; nothing had worked so far. This, he supposed, was the closest he had gotten yet. Harry himself, though, wasn't the thing that needed transporting; he'd have to work on that.

As he walked up the last three steps and took a left into the third floor corridor, he was knocked to the floor harshly. Rubbing the back of his head, Harry groaned for the second time that night and slowly sat up.

What the hell had he run into?

His eyes slid open, and with a jerk, he scrambled back against the wall. Horror tore through his body, panic flooding his chest, as he stared into the deep, emerald eyes of Tom Riddle. The young boy, who looked at least a year younger than Harry, looked up with annoyance.

At seeing the strange boy—obviously the thing that knocked him over—in a near panic attack, Tom had to smirk. It wasn't often that someone was actually afraid of being caught by a Prefect, but this boy obviously knew enough to have that fear.

With a slight tilt of his head, Tom watched as this boy—Gryffindor by the looks of the robes—stood with a shaky stance. Pitch black hair adorned the tanned boy's head, nearly as messy as Tom's, and green eyes just shades lighter than his own stared down at him.

After a moment of decision, Tom raised his hand out to the boy, waiting impatiently for assistance in getting up. After all, it hadn't been Tom's fault that this imbecile had caused their fall. Seconds passed, and as they turned into minutes, Tom frowned and stood up on his own.

Feeling particularly annoyed and vindictive, Tom smirked nastily, "What are you doing out of your common room after curfew, Gryffindor? Having a nice stroll? How does a dock of points sound?" As the Gryffindor leaned back and looked determinedly at the ceiling, Tom finally recognized just why the boy was so familiar.

Harry tried his best to ignore the smaller boy, tried to forget who he was, tried to shove down the panic that still flickered in his chest. At Tom's words, however, everything crashed into Harry like a wave; this boy wasn't Voldemort. At least not yet.

Standing particularly rigid, Harry didn't say a word, allowing Tom to say whatever he wished. There was no reason to make conversation, though he did want to know what year it was. Just how badly had he messed his spell up?

"Cat got your tongue Potter?" Eyes widening, Harry took an involuntary step back, hearing the dark chuckle escape Tom's mouth. "Now, you didn't think the diary was just one-directional did you? I know exactly who you are."

The words that gathered in Harry's mind became so jumbled that he couldn't force a response from his lips. Confusion and anger burned in his eyes, yet the words refused to form a coherent answer to Tom's taunting. He had known.

Tom stepped forward until he was toe-to-toe with Harry, looking up into his almost identical eyes with what would mistakenly be called a soft smile. "Seeing you in person, though, I have no idea why I would ever want to harm you. You're too…mesmerizing to be in pain."

That, Harry blanched, was something that he had never heard before. Handsome? Yes. Cute? Yes. Adorable? Yes. Even beautiful? Yes. Mesmerizing however? No, he had never been called that before, at least that he could remember.

Looking down at the boy who stood a little too close for comfort, Harry—for the first time that night—sized Tom up. Tom was at least three inches shorter than Harry, and he was very slender, even more than Harry had been during the war.

However, as Harry ran his eyes over Tom, he decided that slender actually looked good on him. It hinted at something sweet and innocent, but Harry wasn't so naïve to think that it was actually true. Tom had, after all, just mentioned the damned diary.

Back then, in his second year, when Harry had been a kid, Tom had seemed so tall when he'd shown up in the Chamber. Harry couldn't help the smile that came over his features now, though he squashed it as quickly as it had come.

"Why would I want to harm such an exquisite being? My own dark angel." Before Harry could back up and stop the inevitable, Tom's lips were on his own. Tom's hands pushed against Harry's shoulders, forcing him to lean roughly against the wall.

The cold stone scraped against Harry's back as Tom pressed further, wrapping his arms around Harry, those slender fingers lacing through his hair. Unable to bring himself to push the boy away, Harry allowed the near frantic kisses to continue, incapable of bringing harm to the Slytherin.

This boy wasn't the Dark Lord that haunted Harry. Harry remembered the voice of the diary; it had been almost compassionate, caring. Before he destroyed the book, it had even seemed to save him from one horrible situation after another. Surely this couldn't be that wrong.

With the sweep of a warm tongue across his lips, Harry tossed every doubt and inhibition to the wind as he gripped Tom and pulled him even closer. Smirking like the Slytherin he was supposed to have been, Harry walked across the hall, half-dragging Tom.

Harry shoved Tom against the wall and attacked his slim neck with his teeth and tongue. Breathy gasps escaped Tom's mouth at the onslaught, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He had waited a long time for this.

Then, with a shake of his head, Harry breathed in the sent that was purely Tom before stepping away, gripping his wand tightly. "I can't stay here." Coming back to himself, Tom was able to grab onto the taller boy's wrist before Harry could cast the spell that had brought him here.

"What do you have waiting for you? You could have a life here. Things could be better for us." Everything about the offer was tempting, and for all Harry knew, things could turn out just that way—better for the both of them.

What did he have waiting for him? A group of broken friends who didn't know how to treat him? People he loved, but who would want him to be happy, right? Looking into Tom's eyes, he frowned. But would things turn out like that in the future?

Stepping forward he gripped the back of Tom's head, crashing their lips together. There is no way that it would work, Harry decided with a firm resolution, and he can't put me down for it if I shut him up. The entire world slowed down, and in that moment—if for only that moment—it stopped.

With a flick of his wand, that horrid feeling of being jerked through a pipe brought Harry to the exact place that he wanted to be. It took only a few seconds for him to recognize the firm weight on his chest, and with a smirk he looked up into Tom's eyes.

The Slytherin was looking around the hall with wide, shocked eyes. Harry could tell that Tom knew exactly where they were, and finally, he directed a brilliant, genuine smile at Harry. Their lips fell together once more, and as they lay there in the middle of the Great Hall, the pieces finally fell into place.

After everything they had been through, they were able to be together in the way they wanted—the way that they were meant to be. If Harry had stayed in Tom's time, the future would have been different. Here, they didn't need to worry about altering the past. Here, all things could be perfect.

{M}

This was my first attempt at Harry/Tom, so I hope that it wasn't too bad.

This was a challenge to try to fit the pairing in at least a semi-Canon setting.

Though, it still turned out very AU ^^

Okay, thank you so much for reading! Please drop in a review before you go!

~ Taragh


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